Come On, Sweet Catastrophe

At first, I was sad. More than sad, even. I was devastated. Never in my life had I been hurt so badly by someone's words. When I sat down in my car, I could barely see through the tears that were seemingly falling in torrents down my cheeks. I tried to blink them away as I started my car, still intending to drive despite my compromised vision. I don't think I have ever cried so hard in my entire life. I was wailing, like some spoiled child who hasn't gotten their way or an infant who's been left neglected in its crib. My neck was wet with salt water and my nose was running too. My hair was sticking to my wet cheeks and lips, but I didn't care enough to push it away. 

I was just going to go home--My real home, and curl up in the bed that my mother made for me every morning when I failed to do it myself. I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. I didn't want to have to face the world ever again. 

My mood seemed to shift very quickly, however. I stopped crying and my tears dried up, leaving sticky trails down my face and neck. I started grinding my teeth together and my hands tightened on the steering wheel. I wasn't sad anymore. No, I was pissed. Livid. Fuming. I was seeing red.

He suddenly shows an interest in me, after all of these years, and he just expects me to drop every-fucking-thing for him? I'm not saying that I was right with the way I was going about things, but you can't just break up with someone suddenly like that. It just seemed so cruel. Ryan loved me. Who was Derek to demand that I turn my back on that? 

And then he called me a kid. A fucking kid. He certainly didn't think I was a kid when he was having sex with me the other day. Or today, for that matter, when he was threatening to rip my dress off me. He was trying to hurt me. I get it that I had hurt him by not breaking up with Ryan, but I wasn't doing it in spite of him. I didn't get any sort of satisfaction from hurting him like he seemed to get from hurting me. 

Well, if he was going to be spiteful, then I would be too. 

I took a sudden turn, going in the opposite direction of my house. I drove about twenty kilometres over the limit and paid no mind to the stop signs. Looking back, I realize I could have killed myself and others with my erratic driving, but I was just filled with this fiery rage. I couldn't control myself. 

I arrived at Ryan's parking lot a lot faster than I would have if I had driven properly. I could see his car parked across the way, so I knew he had arrived home from his classes. I stormed inside the lobby and started up the stairs, taking them two-by-two all the way to Ryan's floor. I was breathing heavily and I could hear my heart beating in my ears, but I didn't know if that was because of my anger or climbing the stairs. I took off my shoes for the final steps to his front door, banging on it loudly. I could hear shuffling from inside and the sound of heavy footsteps coming to the door. It swung open as Ryan was midway through pulling on a T-shirt, the material clinging to his skin. His hair was wet and dripping on his shoulders and I assumed that he had just gotten out of the shower. 

"Oh, Ruth!" His eyes brightened and my heart swelled because they did that when he saw me. "Hey, baby! What's u-"

I cut him off, crushing my mouth against his. Our teeth clashed and our noses mashed together, but I didn't care, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. He squeaked in surprised, but then he moaned when he relaxed into the kiss, lifting me off the ground so that we were level. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands tugged on the shirt he had just pulled on, wanting nothing more than to feel his naked skin. Ryan always looked best when he was naked. 

He kicked the door shut behind us, carrying me into his room and dropping me on his bed. I was kneeling in front of him, my eager hands pulling at the draw string of his sweat pants. I glanced up at him and he was staring down at me in awe. Never had I acted like such a... Such an animal before. 

He certainly wasn't complaining, though. 

Ryan and I had sex for the first time since I had been with Derek. It was rough and fueled by the anger I felt for Derek, but it felt so good. I couldn't keep my hands off of him for the entire night. I could barely give him time to recover before I was pulling him back again. The first time, all I could think about was what Derek had said to me--How furious I was with him and how badly I wanted him to hurt too. The second time, all I could think about was how angry Derek would be if he knew what I was doing--How satisfied I felt by getting back at him. And by the third time Ryan and I had done it that night, I had forgotten Derek's name completely. I had worked out all my frustrations and I wasn't sad or angry anymore. I just got lost in Ryan. I memorized every freckle on his back, traced the contours of his toned and muscular abdomen. I kissed every inch of his skin that I could reach. Ryan was beautiful and perfect and I did love him. I did. I wanted to be with Derek too, but that didn't matter. I had Ryan. He loved me. So, who fucking needs Derek? Because i definitely didn't.

Or that's what I told myself, at least.